One of Those Nights
by AlicetheCircusMonster
Summary: Germany's had it with Italy. He's already had a rough day, and he can't handle anymore crap today. But does he maybe take it out a bit too much on the poor Italian? Especially when that poor Italian hadn't done anything wrong? Warnings: Depressed Italy, mentions of Shonen-ai, Romano's potty mouth.


**Hello there, people of earth~. I'm here with another oneshot! I wrote this oneshot based off of one of those "Imagine your OTP" promts off of tumblr. Wasn't my own promt (meaning I didn't come up with it), but I found it and said OO i HAVE TO DO THAT. And so I hope you enjoy what I wrote! I also have never realized how much I _hate_ oneshots... This single short little thing took me a whole WEEK. Jeez! I _hate_ oneshots! Ugh!**

**Anyways onto serious stuff, this is rated T because of Shonen-ai (not yaoi, meaning there's no smut or anything sorry. If you're looking for that look at other stuff on my profile. B****ut there are two men in a romantic relationship, so if that's not your thing, don't read on!**) Other warnings like occasional language (Romano's potty mouth mainly) and uh, a very depressed Italy?  


**So I hope you enjoy~. Please review as always. Oh, and happy (very) early new years! :D  
**

**~Alice.  
**

* * *

Germany's words only echoed through Italy's mind for the thousandth time that night. As the mans voice repeated itself, fresh tears rolled down his raw cheeks. He didn't think it was even possible for him to cry anymore, not with how much he had been for the past hour. But the warmth clouding his vision had proved him otherwise.

_"You're nothing but a nuisance!"_

His chest throbbed, the hole in his heart digging itself deeper and deeper until he swore it would go straight through the organ. Is that what he really though of him as? A nuisance?

_"You're just and ignorant, useless pest!"_

More tears, more pain. Digging his nails into the bedsheets, he chocked out another sob. He wished he could, like he could any other time, give off his brilliant dazzling smile. Germany had told him before once long ago that his grins could put stars to shame with how bright they were. But he was pretty sure Germany wasn't going to be giving him any compliments like that again any time soon. Or that he would be putting any stars to shame for quite some time.

What had he done to make Germany so angry? What had made him so annoyed as to push him into going this far? Germany had lost his temper on multiple occasions, but never like this. He would usually just tell the Italian to stop being an idiot and take his work seriously, or start going on about how he needed to stand up for himself for the war or else he would get himself killed. But he had never gone to the extent of calling him names like that. He had called him an idiot before, because during those times even Italy himself would admit he was being one. But a nuisance? A pest? Useless?

More tears. His throat swelled, making it hard just to even breathe. But why breathe? He was just a useless pest, right? What did it matter if he bothered to breathe air or not?

_"Now now Italy,"_ he told himself._ "Don't think like that... Don't do that to yourself..." _

He looked over to his side and glanced at his cell. He needed to talk to someone. And now. He knew if those kinds of thoughts were coming to his mind that he needed someone. Dialing the first number that came to mind with shaky hands, he held the phone to his ear and listened to the beeping.

"Hello?"

"F-f-fratello?" he whimpered out, trying to make his voice at least a little bit comprehensible.

"Veneziano? What's going on? What's wrong?" Romano cried out frantically from the other end. He hadn't heard his brother this upset in years.

"I-I don't really kn-know... B-but G-Germany... He... He..."

"What did that bastard do to you? I'll kick his ass! Tell me Veneziano! What did the bastard do to my fratellino ?" Italy sniffed, wiping the several different fluids from under his nose, chin, and mouth with his sleeve.

"I-I-I don't want you to do an-nything... I just... He said some very not nice stuff..."

"Doesn't he do that all the time? Romano asked curiously.

"Y-yeah, but not like th-this. He called me a nuisance, and a n ignorant useless pest..."

"He WHAT?! Nobody says those things to my fratellino and gets away with it! Not while I have anything to say about it! I swear I'm going to kick his ass so hard he's going to land somewhere on the other side of Europe..."

"Fratello!" Italy whined. "I told you not to do anything!"

"Well what do you expect me to do?"

"Be a good brother and help me!" Italy cried, pounding his clenched fist into the mattress, eliciting a creak in protest. Romano was a silent for a few moments, save an eventual sigh.

"You're right. First things first, explain to me what happened." as Italy began explaining from the beginning of his and Germany's fight, he had started crying all over again. More sobs and shudders shook through his body as he detailed Germany coming home in a fit of rage, his screams and angry remarks, how he had slammed his fist so hard on the table that the tableware left the wood. Romano had stayed silent during his explanation, letting the younger of the brothers vent like he needed to. After he had finished, ending at when he had decided to call, Romano took a deep breath.

"Listen to me Veneziano. I want you to know that none of what he says it true, alright? The bastards obviously pissed off at something, and he just took all of his anger out on you. I don't know what's wrong with him, but don't let it get to you. I'm sure things will just blow over in no time, alright?"

"Y-you sur-re?" Italy whimpered.

"Si. Listen to your fratello. Just leave him be and when he calms down see what happens. If he blows up again, you can always come stay with me, eh?" Italy wiped under his nose again, being glad that his fratello wasn't really there in the room to see him like this. He'd be ashamed if anyone had ever seen him in such a mess, even his own brother.

"Grazie, fratello."

"Prego. Now, knowing my fratellino you probably have snot all over you. Go clean yourself up, and feel better, alright?"

"Alright. Arrivederci." He closed the phone and wiped his eyes with the base of his palms. He knew he needed to stop crying, but no matter how hard he tried Germamy's words just wouldn't stop playing back in his mind.

_"You're such a nuisance!" _

Here we go again.

* * *

Germany gripped at the front of his hair, pulling at the strands with such force he thought they would come out. He was so frustrated he couldn't find any words to explain. The things that had gone on that night at his home were nothing out of the ordinary, so why was he so emotional about it? Because he snapped at Italy? No, he had done that multiple times and everything had been fine. No, he had gone above and beyond that. He had completely lost his temper along with reason at the poor man, saying things no person should say to another. _"Why did I say that to him..." _He though in frustration, letting out a groan. He could clearly remember Italy's face after he said what he did. The poor man, Germany had never seen him in such a state. Italy was always so hyper, merry, cheerful, carefree; but in that moment it was like all of those feelings had shattered within the Italian. Germany had never seen Italy cry before, for he never seemed to be upset. But today... Today it was like someone had broken him completely. And the one who had broken Italy, was him.

_"I'm such an idiot!" _He scolded himself. He just couldn't answer his question of why he had said what he did. He had more than a stressful day at work earlier, dealing with people who could classify as absolute idiots whom he questioned how they even got the job. All day he had been frustrated, waking up extra early only to arrive late at his job. And then dealing with the people, oh it had put him in the worst of moods. All he had wanted to do when he came back home was throw everything aside and then sleep.

And then Italy had arrived at the house (that they occasionally shared, and it wasn't uncommon for him to come over). Well, arrived makes it sound like he got there after Germany had gotten home, but that isn't true. By the time he had gotten home, Italy was already there. That fact alone was enough to piss him off further, and it only added to his already rotten mood. Italy was just being his usual self, acting a fool and overly cheerful as always. He could sense that there was something wrong with Germany, so he was merely hoping that his good mood would rub off on him and cheer him up, but Germany didn't care. The man's constant talking and rants were only annoying him further. He really was trying to keep a level head, but he knew that if Italy kept up his actions that he would only eventually loose it.

Italy had offered to make dinner, hoping that a nice meal would maybe cheer him up as well. After making his favorite pasta ( because who can frown while eating some of Italy's best pasta?), he had begun to clean up after themselves when he finally noticed just _how _bad of a mood Germany was really in. Frowning to himself as he set the plates in the sink he walked over to the bigger man who's head was hung, jaw clenched as well as fists.

"G-Germany?" Italy began praying to himself that he hadn't done anything to upset him further, knowing he would pay for it if he had.

"What." Was all he could spit out through his gritted teeth.

"What's wrong..." Italy squeaked, cringing inwardly. He was expecting to just be called an idiot, or to shut up and leave him alone, something along those lines. That would be something Germany would say. But the words that had come out of his mouth were _nothing _like the Italian had expected.

"What's wrong?" Growled Germany, darkened blue eyes flicking up to meet soft brown ones. "I'll tell you what's wrong! I'm sick and tired of dealing with idiots all day long, and then coming home to _another _one! Why can't you just leave me alone, Italy? Why are you always bothering me?!" He screamed, slamming his fist on the table with such force that the leftover tableware jumped. Italy's body froze, muscles tight and taunt. His lips parted slightly, as if he was trying to say something, but no words could settle themselves in his dry mouth. And then, as if to add fuel to the fire, Germany stood up and continued.

"Can't I just do things by myself?! I don't need you to constantly be there to do nothing but irritate me constantly!" Italy's bottom lip quivered, tears stinging the back of his eyes.

"I-... I'm sorry..." He whispered so low that Germany could hardly hear him. Germany only continued, his volume raising with every word he spoke.

"Mein Gott, Italy, you're nothing but a nuisance!" His heart stopped dead in his chest, an ache deeper than anything he had ever felt before clawing its way through his insides. A single tear fell from Italy's softened eyes.

"I-..."

"You're just an ignorant, useless pest, you know that!? Why can't you just leave me alone?" That was it. Italy couldn't take it anymore. Germany might as well have told him he hated him. Hell, he might as well have stabbed him in the chest he wouldn't know the difference. More and more tears began to erupt from his eyes, and sobs were catching themselves in his throat. That was it. That was the breaking moment.

After taking a few deep breaths, Germany had finally calmed down a bit. He had finally been calm enough to notice Italy's state, and his face fell. It was then that he had realized what he had just said, and how _much _he had just said.

"Italy..." He began again, reaching out a hand to touch the trembling man in front of him. But at the sudden movement, Italy cried out and flinched backwards, clenching his chest tightly. Germany's eyes widened, pulling his hand back. "Italy... I wasn't going to... I don't..." Italy lowered his head, shivers now shaking through his entire body as more and more tears fell from his face. "Italy?" Germany whispered. _What have I done... _Without a word, Italy ran from him, dashing up the stairs with speed he didn't know he had. But what he did know was that he had to get out of there, and fast. He couldn't take it anymore, and he had to leave.

That was the last time he had seen him for hours. He glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:17. He groaned, rubbing his groggy eyes with balled fists. He had been laying on the couch that night, and he just could get the scene out of his mind. He just could believe he had actually said those things to the poor man. Italy hadn't even done anything wrong and he had said such horrible things..

His stomach began to churn as guilty piled on top of itself. What could he do? How was he going to fix it? _Could _he fix it? After saying what he did, was there even a way to take such horrible things back? Was there a way to fix how badly he had broken the man?

He sucked in a deep breath, finally forcing himself to sit up. He was going to face Italy. He was going to apologize, tell him that he didn't mean a word he said. That it was all just a build up of frustration that he let out on him. And then he would pray to God for however long it would take for him to forgive him. Pray that he _would _forgive him.

Making his way up the stairs as quietly as he could, he drew in a quick breath as he reached for Italy's doorknob. _Shit, _he thought to himself. _What if he locked it... _Pressing his large hands to the cool metal of the knob he gave it a slow turn, praying that the Italian wasn't _that _upset to lock everyone out. He was hoping he maybe just forgot to..

He let out a sigh of relief as the door gave a quiet creak as it opened. So Italy hadn't locked him out after all. Practically sneaking into the dark room, he closed the door as slow as possible trying not to make even the slightest of sounds. He quickly noticed that the only light in the room was coming from a small dim lamp on the man's bedside table. Italy hated being in the dark. Squinting his eyes to see into the darkness, he found the Italian in the center of his bed, curled against himself hugging his knees. Germany could feel his own heart throb at the sight. As Italy slowly lifted his head to glace up at him, Germany realized how red, dull and exhausted Italy's usually bright brown orbs were. It looked like he had been crying the entire night, and truth be told he probably had been. His usually neat kept brown locks were tousled and tangled, his curl that stuck from the side of his head seemed to droop down towards his neck. His face looked red and raw and his breathing looked uneven. Germany's heart sunk into his stomach. So this is the effect that he had on the man... It was worse that he had thought. It's one thing to be crying, but this...

"Italy..." Holding their eye contact almost desperately, Germany slowly began drag his feet across the carpet. Italy's muscles tightened, not having the slightest clue of what to expect as the German drew closer and closer.

"G-Germany..." He finally managed to croak out as the other man sat on the bed in front of him. Without a word, Germany reached out to grab him, eliciting a loud squeak of fear from the smaller man as well as a flinch. But this time Germany didn't hesitate or pull back at Italy's protest, and instead used it as more incentive to push further. He practically threw his arms around the smaller man, earning another frightened squeak in surprise. "Germany?" Italy whimpered, pulling away from the other the best he could. But Germany only tightened his grip around the man.

"I want you to listen to me..." Germany whispered lowly, burying his face into Italy's neck. "I can't express with words how sorry I am for what I said. I swear, I didn't mean any of it. I was just frustrated is all I swear... I am so, so, so, **so **sorry, Italy. I can't expect that you'll forgive me, but can you at least believe me? Please, Italy. I really am so sorry..." He confessed, clutching the Italian even tighter in his arms as he spoke. Italy was completely frozen. Was it true? It was just like his brother had said. Just his over frustration being taken out? He really didn't mean it after all? Something in his heart told him that was right. Maybe it was the fact that Germany was holding him, or how sincere his voice sounded, or how he really truly did appear sorry for what he said.

Italy slowly began to raise his arms, snaking them around the German's broad shoulders. "I do..." He whispered softly. Germany let out a sigh of relief as he finally loosened his grip at last, pulling back just enough to stare into the Italian's eyes once more. He wasn't even sure if he had meant that he believed him or forgave him, but at that moment he really didn't care. Pulling Italy closer to him once again, he pressed his lips gently to his forehead.

"I'm so glad..." He mumbled softly. "I swear, Italy. I won't ever say anything like that again. I don't ever want to-"

"Germany.." Italy interrupted, pulling down the bigger man with him so that they were both laying down at last. Germany's eyes widened, but grunted in response. "I'm tired. It's time for a siesta." Italy said. A small grin tugged at Germany's lips as he ran his fingers gently through the smaller man's hair.

"Alright." At last, the normal Italy was back.

* * *

**Hurray for overrated happy endings! I also apologize if my Italian is wrong. I am not Italian, nor do I speak it. **

**So? Worth a review? Thank you so much for reading.**


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